


Night Terrors

by orphan_account



Category: Gabriel Knight
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grace seemed fine the night Gabriel found her in the hounfour. After the adrenaline wears off, it's another story (it's this one!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

_Drums, beating loudly, all around her, through her. Darkness. Can't wake up. Why can't I wake up? Panic, fear, the rhythm calling after her._

 

She sat up, eyes flying open, chest heaving as her lungs sucked in air. The panic from the dream dissipated quickly, being replaced with confusion. Where was she? Twisting violently, she saw that underneath her was some sort of... of altar, a round table with a trench in the middle. It was slick with blood, oozing from the centre. Her white gown was soaked with it. It was all over her legs, her hands – God, her mouth! She gagged at the sharp taste, retching convulsively. A fist grabbed a hank of her hair and pulled back, exposing her vulnerable neck. She screamed in terror, but the sound was choked by the blood that dripped down her throat (where was it coming from?). A metallic glint caught her eye and she struggled in the tight grip to turn her head to see, dreading the answer. It was a cruel, wavy knife, held aloft by the captor and, as she watched, it swooped down in an elegant arc, slicing through her breast with a surgeon's precision.

 

The last thing she saw before her heart stopped was a dark face, alive with power.

 

 

-.-.-

 

Grace sat up, eyes flying open, chest heaving as her lungs sucked in air. Without waiting to see if it was dream or reality, she threw herself out of the bed and turned on the light, blinking furiously as the brightness hurt her eyes. There were no drums, no chants or voodoo cults, just an empty bed and her own reflection in the mirror. She consciously tried to calm her breathing, to slow her heart from its erratic thumping, but the adrenaline was quickly fading, leaving only the lingering fear and horror of the dream. Her body began to shake fiercely, teeth chattering painfully against the stitches on her lip. Grace moved into her living room, but made it no further than her armchair, her legs collapsing as soon as she sat down. She drew herself into a ball, knees under her chin and arms wrapped protectively around her slight frame. This is ridiculous, she told herself sternly, I grew up in New York, for Christ's sake. I heard worse things happening to women every day on the news. But, she added, feeling a bubbling surge of panic, in New York I never got kidnapped.

 

The clock on the wall said that it was 3AM: not early enough to get up, but too late for a decent sleep before work. The long hours until morning stretched in front of her with no company other than her memories. She closed her eyes and hastily picked up the phone before her nerve left her, punching in the numbers without looking.

 

It only took three rings before he answered.

 

"Yeah? Who is it?"

 

"Gabriel?" She hadn't expected to feel so relieved to hear someone's voice – even his. A sob escaped before she could put a careful hand over her mouth.

 

"Oh, Jesus, Gracie!" He was instantly concerned, his tone turning sharp with worry. "What's wrong?"

"No, no, it's nothing." She drew in a shuddering breath and pressed her forehead against her knees. "I just had a nightmare and I'm all alone in my apartment and I am so scared." The phone wobbled in her grip, her hands still trembling with fear. "Can you come over?"

 

Gabriel let out a short, but throaty, chuckle. "Oh, darlin', I've been waitin' three months to hear that." In response, Grace just wept quietly into the phone. "Shit, Gracie, don't cry. I'll be there in ten minutes, OK?"

 

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve, glad Gabriel couldn't see her through the telephone. "OK. Thank you. I really appreciate it."

 

-.-.-

 

By the time Gabriel got to the top floor of Grace's apartment building, his t-shirt was sticking to his skin with sweat, and he could feel the back of his thighs burning from effort. Built originally as a manor home, the owners had over time divided off the rooms into separate dwellings. From the sheer number of stairs, Gabriel suspected Grace had been assigned the attic. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and slung it over an arm before knocking lightly on her door. After a few moments, Grace opened it a couple of inches, a small sliver of her scared face visible through the gap. He waggled his fingers at her. "Hey Gracie. I promise I won't huff and puff and blow your house down."

 

She gave him a look, but unlocked the deadbolt, opening the door wide enough for him to enter. Once he was inside, the door was locked again, and she stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. Gabriel turned to greet her less sarcastically, and stopped, appalled at her appearance. The blow from Dr. John had turned her pretty face into a mass of swelling, from her chin up to under her left eye. Bruises layered across the bridge of her delicate nose, ranging from purple to light grey. Her mouth sagged slightly from the weight of her abused lip, bloodied and puffy, having caught the brunt of the punch's impact. It's a good thing Mosley shot the bastard, he thought, because I'd goddamn kill him for what he did to her. She was holding herself stiffly, arms crossed against her chest, back slightly hunched, as if she were trying to make herself as small a target as possible. Gabriel dropped his gaze, feeling the familiar guilt twisting in his guts – he never should have involved Gracie in the voodoo shit. If he ever got another case, he was going to keep her as far away from trouble as possible.

 

Grace nervously adjusted her hair, putting a messy section behind her ear. "Thanks for coming, Gabriel. I... I didn't think it would be so hard at night."

 

He placed the plastic shopping bag he carried on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. "It's more than OK, Gracie. I'm pretty much an expert on nightmares and not bein' able to sleep." Gabriel scrunched up his face as he realised he'd have to ask her how she was feeling – God, women were more pain than they were worth sometimes. "It helps to talk about it. You know," he added quickly, "only if you want to."

 

Grace almost smiled at his discomfort, but her eyes were still huge and worried, and she gave the distinct impression of a leaf shaking in the wind. "I think I need a cup of tea first. Do you want coffee? I've only got instant."

 

"Caffeine's caffeine, I always say." Gabriel said, watching her intently. There was a slight limp in her walk, possibly an injury from fighting off Dr. John. He could feel his anger rising, but there was no one to blame now, just himself. Familiar thoughts circled through his brain, pointing out that it was hardly fair, since he'd only been following genetic memory or some shit when he'd hunted down the voodoo cult. What was he meant to do? Ignore the instincts he'd been bred for? He bit down a sigh; now was not the time to gnaw over the whole Schattenjäger thing.

 

His internal dialogue was interrupted by a  _smash_  as a mug landed on the floor, having fallen from Grace's shaking hands. Gabriel rushed forward and took the second cup from her, which he carefully placed on the counter, and awkwardly gave her a hug. Grace let out a shuddering breath, and he winced at the sound of her quiet sobs. How did he get into these situations? The selfish thought made him feel guilty, and he tried to do penance by rubbing her back and making soothing sounds. After a few moments she pushed him away and wiped her eyes, embarrassed, and turned to clean up the mess on the floor. "Grace. Sit down. I'll sort this out, OK?" His voice left no room for debate, and she shrugged listlessly and sat down on the couch.

 

Working quickly, he put the kettle back on and picked up the larger shards of ceramic before mopping up the rest with a paper towel. For someone who refused to clean his bathroom, Gabriel was surprisingly efficient at tidying up the broken mug, and she told him just that. "You live with an elderly woman for sixteen years and you get pretty good at it." He replied, putting the new cup of tea in front of her and sitting at the other end of the couch. "My Gran's as sharp as a tack, but sometimes her arthritis acts up something awful."

 

"How is she?" Grace asked, turning the cup around in her hands. "I haven't spoken to her since I suggested she leave town."

 

Gabriel paused, a fresh wave of gratitude overwhelming him. "Thanks for that, by the way." He coughed, knowing his voice had been too sincere to go without notice. "Gran's fine. I called her yesterday to make sure she was still safe. I really wish you could've taken your own advice, Gracie, and got the hell outta New Orleans."

 

She just sighed. "I wanted to wait until I heard from you, Gabriel. I  _thought_  you'd call, but now I know how dumb that idea was." Grace took a sip of tea and looked away, irritated.

 

He felt guilty,  _again_. God. No wonder he hated commitment: even being friends with a woman was hard work. "I'm sorry, OK? I got caught up and didn't think about it. I didn't expect you to hang around when your life was in danger."

 

"I didn't think my life  _was_  in danger." Grace was angry now, and he wasn't sure if she was actually pissed at him, or at the world. "I don't know why they kidnapped me. God, if they'd actually been paying attention they'd know how little you thought of me."

 

OK, so it  _was_  him. Gabriel was still confused, though, wondering what he'd done to set her off. "Grace? What are you talking about? If it's about not bein' able to pay you for a while there, you know I was strapped for cash. I've paid you back already."

 

"Ugh, it's not about that. Just forget it." She pursed her swollen mouth, clearly unhappy.

 

Gabriel tried to think of anything he'd said or done to make her feel this way, but the whole voodoo murder thing was a mass of interconnected memories that he had to purposely unravel before he'd understand it. His fingers were itching to start typing already, but he was holding off until Mosley was convinced they got the rest of the cult – there was no point writing a great book if he wasn't allowed to publish it, or it caused him to become a target for revenge. He gulped down some terrible instant coffee. "Well, I'll apologise anyway, 'cause I probably did or said something awful and I'm sorry, because I didn't mean to make you feel bad." He held out a hand. "Can you forgive me for bein' an idiot?"

 

She gave him a look, but shook his hand anyway. "I might as well. It's almost my own fault for having such high expectations of someone who calls their motorbike 'Ed'."

 

"Hey, leave Ed out of this!" Gabriel complained weakly. Grace smiled, and he relaxed. She looked a lot calmer now, and the trembling had stopped. "Oh, before I forget, I brought you some groceries." He got up and opened the plastic bag on the table, taking out a tub of Ben and Jerry's that was covered in condensation, most of one of his Gran's molasses pies, and a block of American cheese. Grace raised an eyebrow at the last item, and he blushed, looking sheepish. "Er, I don't exactly keep the fridge well-stocked."

 

He quickly prepared two slices of the pie and topped them with scoops of ice cream, which he brought to her on the sofa before taking a seat next to her. "Thank you."

 

"S'ok." Gabriel replied around a mouthful of food. "D'you wanna talk about your dream now?"

 

Grace looked at her spoon for a moment before nodding. "It's really two dreams. I start off in darkness, drums beating loudly. I'm asleep and can't wake up. It's like I'm back under the voodoo spell." She frowned, and nibbled on a bit of pastry, her eyes unfocused. "Then I slide into the second dream, and it's far worse. I 'wake' up and I think that it's over, only I'm... I'm on the table, like in the hounfour, and it's covered in blood.  _I'm_  covered in blood, and it's in my mouth and going down my throat." Gabriel reached out and took her hand, which seemed to give her the courage to continue. "Someone grabs my hair and holds me tight, and I see the knife and then they slice my heart out. Before I wake up, I see Dr. John's face looming over me."

 

Gabriel knew that she had given him a very flat, dispassionate telling of what must be a terrifying nightmare, but it was impossible to remove all the horror from such a dream. He was almost surprised at how much the kidnapping had affected her: at the time she seemed excited to be living through it all, eager to explore and take on Tetelo and the cult members. Maybe it took a few days for the reality to catch up with her? He moved closer, their knees touching, and held both her hands. "He's dead, Gracie. He won't be able to hurt you again."

 

She nodded, and let out a puff of air. "I know. Intellectually, at least. I just seem to forget at night. I really wish I could get a good night's sleep, you know." Grace gave a half-smile. "I almost feel bad for making fun of you all those times you stumbled in after a nightmare."

 

Gabriel put on an expression of mock outrage. "Almost? Try having them for seventeen years and then talk to me." Her face grew worried, and he mentally kicked himself for suggesting that the dreams would plague her for as long as his own had. "Well," he continued, voice dropping to what he thought of as being sultry, "I could always show you the Gabriel Knight method of dreamless sleep."

 

Grace frowned in confusion and then scowled. "Gabriel! Now is  _not_  the time to be hitting on me!" She paused, slanting a look at him, her eyes amused. "Besides, my mouth hurts too much."

 

He laughed, not expecting her response. Was the great White Witch thawing the tiniest bit? My God, maybe Narnia  _will_  see summer again. A sudden though occurred to him, and he quickly got off the couch and headed for his jacket. In the inside pocket, he found what he was looking for, and he drew out the talisman he'd risked his neck for in Africa. Grace perked up as she saw it, her inner historian having an academic hard on for the gaudy thing. Gabriel sat back down and held out the medallion. "I don't know if it'll work, or even what I expect it to do. But I haven't had a bad dream since I got it, and it's kinda... comforting, or somethin'. I don't know."

 

Grace cautiously took it from him, and he could see tension easing out of her face as soon as her skin touched the talisman. "Yeah, you're right. I feel safe." She hid a tiny yawn behind her hand. "Oh, sorry. I'm feeling really tired." Her eyes drooped, and she struggled to keep them open, but lost the battle.

 

"You should go to sleep, Gracie. It's late." Gabriel made his voice as soft and compelling as he could.

 

It seemed to work. She nodded and shifted on the couch, curling into a ball. He moved out of her way and waited, watching for her breathing to slip into the deep and even rhythm of the truly asleep. When he felt reasonably sure she was out, he carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, surprised that she actually owned a full-sized bed. Gabriel placed her down gently, not wanting to wake her now that she was so peaceful. God, she was confusing, and a pain in the butt, too. But he really liked her, and he spent a lot of time  _not_  thinking about her, because it was starting to become a bad habit.

 

He wrote a note telling Grace to not come in before 12PM tomorrow and let himself out. On his way back to his motorbike, Gabriel saw a familiar car parked opposite the building. When he moved closer, he saw that Mosley was asleep in the front, a pair of binoculars in the passenger seat next to him, along with empty styrofoam coffee cups. So. He wasn't the only one looking out for Grace Nakimura, then.

 

Gabriel briefly wondered at the pang of jealousy he felt, but just shrugged, and went home.


End file.
